


Just a Thought

by pluperfecthell



Category: Book of Life (2014)
Genre: 5 Things, 5 Times, 5+1 Things, Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, BUT I DON'T KNOW WHY, Communication Failure, F/M, I KNOW YOU'RE TRYING TO AVOID IT, JUST GIVE IT A TRY, Lack of Communication, M/M, Miscommunication, Multi, Other, WHY DON'T YOU TALK TO EACH OTHER
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-09-03
Updated: 2016-09-03
Packaged: 2018-08-12 20:41:12
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,642
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7948336
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pluperfecthell/pseuds/pluperfecthell
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Joaquín leaves. Joaquín always leaves. (Or: Ten Conversations That Convince Joaquín To Leave, and One Conversation That Convinces Him Stay) (Or: Why You Shouldn't Put Off Necessary Conversations and Let Negative Feelings Fester)</p>
            </blockquote>





	Just a Thought

**Author's Note:**

> [shows up to fandom three thousand years late with dunkin donuts] hey guys, what did i miss
> 
> inspired by repeat viewings of Groundhog Day, my love of repetition and cyclical storytelling devices, and my frustration with the people of San Angel for trying to bribe Joaquin into staying instead of just asking (and with Tres Leches not being canon)

One

 

“You can’t.” The words fall from his lips before he can stop himself, and Manolo’s breath hitches. He bites his lip and waits.

Joaquín barely pauses in his packing, his back towards Manolo, but he’s quiet for a very long time. Finally, he says, “You’re not the first to ask you know. Lots of people, lots of towns in need of protection. Always offering things to get me to stay.” He turns and looks Manolo straight in the eye, smiling a tired and weary smile. “So? You have something to get me to stay?”

 _“Just say it,”_ Manolo thinks. _“‘_ Joaquín, I love you.’ _Say it. He’s already leaving. You’re already losing him, say something, anything before you lose him forever._ Say it! _”  
_

Manolo says nothing, fear and indecision paralyzing his eloquent words into nothingness. The silence stretches on, impossibly long, and Manolo looks away. Joaquín closes his eye and sighs.

“That’s what I thought,” he says, so quietly Manolo can barely hear. Joaquín walks past him and leaves.

 

\---

 

Two

 

“You can’t.” The words fall from her lips before she can stop herself, and María inhales sharply, as if steeling herself. She bites her lip and waits.

Joaquín barely pauses in his packing, his back towards María, but he’s quiet for a very long time. Finally, he says, “You’re not the first to ask you know. Lots of people, lots of towns in need of protection. Always offering things to get me to stay.” He turns and looks María straight in the eye, smiling a tired and weary smile. “So? You have something to get me to stay?”

 _“Say it,”_ María thinks. _“Just say it. You know what he needs to hear. Say it._ ‘Joaquín, I love you.’ _If you can’t say that, say anything. Just give him a reason, and he’ll stay. Say something!_ Anything! _”  
_

María says nothing, for once too frozen by indecision to do anything but stare helplessly. Joaquín stares back for what seems to be an impossibly long time, before heaving a heavy sigh, shaking his head sadly. “I see,” he says, and María knows that it’s too late, too late to do anything but watch him leave and wonder if saying something would have changed anything.

 

\---

 

Three

 

“You can’t.” The words fall from his lips before he can stop himself, and Manolo’s breath hitches. He bites his lip and waits.

Joaquín barely pauses in his packing, his back towards Manolo, but he’s quiet for a very long time. Finally, he says, “You’re not the first to ask you know. Lots of people, lots of towns in need of protection. Always offering things to get me to stay.” He turns and looks Manolo straight in the eye, smiling a tired and weary smile. “So? You have something to get me to stay?”

Manolo feels the words shriveling up in his throat as Joaquín watches him. Finally, he ekes out a mumbled, “I’ll miss you,” before the words and his courage leave him altogether.

It’s the most Manolo has ever said to Joaquín, and he wishes, not for the first time, that he had said something earlier. He hopes, desperately, that Joaquín will understand what he is trying to say.

Joaquín stares at Manolo for a long time, an inscrutable look on his face. “You didn’t answer my question,” he says, as he nudges past Manolo, and Manolo can say nothing in response.

 

\---

 

Four

 

“You can’t.” The words fall from her lips before she can stop herself, and María inhales sharply, as if steeling herself. She bites her lip and waits.

Joaquín barely pauses in his packing, his back towards María, but he’s quiet for a very long time. Finally, he says, “You’re not the first to ask you know. Lots of people, lots of towns in need of protection. Always offering things to get me to stay.” He turns and looks María straight in the eye, smiling a tired and weary smile. “So? You have something to get me to stay?”

María feels more awkward and out of place in her own skin than she ever has in her life as Joaquín watches her, and she can’t stop the tremble in her hands or the uncertainty in her words. “I’ll miss you.”

It’s the most María has ever said to Joaquín, and she curses herself for not saying something earlier. She hopes, desperately, that Joaquín will understand what she is trying to say.

Joaquín stares at María for a long time, an inscrutable look on his face, before he looks away. “You have your family,” he says, finally, as he brushes past María, and María can do nothing but watch him walk away.

 

\---

 

Five

 

“You can’t.” The words fall from his lips before he can stop himself, and Manolo’s breath hitches. He bites his lip and waits.

Joaquín barely pauses in his packing, his back towards Manolo, but he’s quiet for a very long time. Finally, he says, “You’re not the first to ask you know. Lots of people, lots of towns in need of protection. Always offering things to get me to stay.” He turns and looks Manolo straight in the eye, smiling a tired and weary smile. “So? You have something to get me to stay?”

 _“Because I love you,”_ Manolo thinks. _“Because I need you,”_ Manolo wants to say. “San Angel is your home!” Manolo blurts out instead and he curses his inability to say what he means. He wishes he had María with him, her indomitable strength and her unwavering confidence.

Joaquín’s lips harden into a thin line, and he looks away, back to finishing the last of his packing. “...Right,” he says, and then nothing else as he leaves.

 

\---

 

Six

 

“You can’t.” The words fall from her lips before she can stop herself, and María inhales sharply, as if steeling herself. She bites her lip and waits.

Joaquín barely pauses in his packing, his back towards María, but he’s quiet for a very long time. Finally, he says, “You’re not the first to ask you know. Lots of people, lots of towns in need of protection. Always offering things to get me to stay.” He turns and looks María straight in the eye, smiling a tired and weary smile. “So? You have something to get me to stay?”

“San Angel is your _home_ , Joaquín!” María says, frustrated and angry. Frustrated with Joaquín, for not understanding how much he means to Manolo and herself. Angry with herself, for not letting Joaquín know how much he means to Manolo and herself. She wishes she had Manolo with her, his gentle nature, the ease in which he was able to say what was in his heart.

Joaquín closes his good eye and shakes his head, disappointed. “San Angel hasn’t been home for a long time, María,” he says, and he leaves without another word.

 

\---

 

Seven

 

“You can’t.” The words fall from his lips before he can stop himself, and Manolo’s breath hitches. He bites his lip and waits.

Joaquín barely pauses in his packing, his back towards Manolo, but he’s quiet for a very long time. Finally, he says, “You’re not the first to ask you know. Lots of people, lots of towns in need of protection. Always offering things to get me to stay.” He turns and looks Manolo straight in the eye, smiling a tired and weary smile. “So? You have something to get me to stay?”

“I love you,” Manolo says. His hands are trembling and he can scarcely breathe, but he forces himself to look at Joaquín.

Joaquín stares at Manolo, and Manolo thinks that, for one moment, Joaquín looks shocked and stunned and maybe just a little hopeful, and he thinks - hopes - that maybe, just maybe, Joaquín’s resolve to leave has broken. But something hardens in Joaquín’s eye, and he turns away.

“No, you don’t,” he says coldly, and he leaves without even a glimpse back.

Manolo wonders if there was anything else he could have said.

 

\---

 

Eight

 

“You can’t.” The words fall from her lips before she can stop herself, and María inhales sharply, as if steeling herself. She bites her lip and waits.

Joaquín barely pauses in his packing, his back towards María, but he’s quiet for a very long time. Finally, he says, “You’re not the first to ask you know. Lots of people, lots of towns in need of protection. Always offering things to get me to stay.” He turns and looks María straight in the eye, smiling a tired and weary smile. “So? You have something to get me to stay?”

“I love you,” María says. She clenches her hands to stop their trembling, and she holds her breath, forcing herself to look at Joaquín.

Joaquín stares at María, and María thinks that, for one moment, Joaquín looks shocked and stunned and maybe just a little bit hopeful, and she thinks - hopes - that maybe, just maybe, Joaquín’s resolve to leave has broken. But the moment passes, and Joaquín closes his good eye and exhales sharply, his expression becoming unreadable.

“So does Manolo,” he says, voice devoid of emotion, without even a glimpse back.

María knows that there is nothing else she could have said.

 

\---

 

Nine

 

“You can’t.” The words fall from his lips before he can stop himself, and Manolo’s breath hitches. He bites his lip and waits. Beside him, María takes his hand and holds on to it, as much reassurance for her as it is for him.

Joaquín barely pauses in his packing, his back towards Manolo and María, but he’s quiet for a very long time. Finally, he says, “You’re not the first to ask you know. Lots of people, lots of towns in need of protection. Always offering things to get me to stay.” He turns and looks Manolo, then María, straight in the eye, smiling a tired and weary smile. “So? You have something to get me to stay?”

“We love you,” Manolo says. He can barely believe he’s said it.

Joaquín goes very still. He’s still staring at Manolo and María, but he doesn't seem to see them at all. His hands are trembling when he finally manages to tear his gaze away from the two, and he can’t seem to focus on finishing the task he has set out before him. “That’s not a reason,” he says eventually, so quietly that Manolo and María think they might have imagined it, but Joaquín is gone before they can process it.

It’s several months before Joaquín returns to San Angel, and several months after that before Manolo and María can force themselves to talk to Joaquín again. The three meet more frequently afterwards, but it’s never the same, and the easy, simple companionship they shared as children is lost forever.

 

\---

 

Ten

 

“You can’t.” The words fall from her lips before she can stop herself, and María inhales sharply, as if steeling herself. She bites her lip and waits. Beside her, Manolo takes her hand and holds on to it, as much reassurance for him as it is for her.

Joaquín barely pauses in his packing, his back towards María and Manolo, but he’s quiet for a very long time. Finally, he says, “You’re not the first to ask you know. Lots of people, lots of towns in need of protection. Always offering things to get me to stay.” He turns and looks María, then Manolo, straight in the eye, smiling a tired and weary smile. “So? You have something to get me to stay?”

“We love you,” María says, and she can barely believe she’s said it.

Joaquín closes his good eye, and his hand goes up to rub at the eye patch over the missing eye. His shoulders slump as he sighs, worn and weary and very, very tired, and when he looks at María and Manolo again, his smile is melancholic and lonely, and Manolo and María know that whatever Joaquín says next, it will not lead to anything good.

“Why do you think I’m leaving?” Joaquín’s voice is hoarse and heavy and brittle with some unsaid emotion. He can’t seem to leave fast enough, can’t seem to bring himself to look either of them in the eye as he walks out the door and out of their lives.

Joaquín is never seen in San Angel ever again, is never seen by anyone at all ever again, and María and Manolo are bereft with bitter memories and bitterer regrets.

 

\--- --- ---

 

One

 

“You can’t.” The words fall from their lips before they can stop themselves. Manolo’s breath hitches. Beside him, María inhales sharply, as if steeling herself. The two of them wait, reaching out for each others' hands, holding on tight to reassure themselves as well as each other.

Joaquín barely pauses in his packing, his back towards María and Manolo, but he’s quiet for a very long time. Finally, he says, “You’re not the first to ask you know. Lots of people, lots of towns in need of protection. Always offering things to get me to stay.” He turns and looks Manolo, then María, straight in the eye, smiling a tired and weary smile. “So? You have something to get me to stay?”

Joaquín watches the two watching him, and he thinks he knows what they want to say. He thinks he knows what they are _trying_ to say. Trying and failing. And Joaquín is worn and weary and very, very tired, but Joaquín is nothing if not understanding, so finally he says, quietly, desperately, “Just say something. Say anything. _Please._ ”

“I...” María says, but she stops herself, looks at Manolo. “We don’t...” Manolo tries, his voice petering off pathetically, and it hurts Joaquín to see María so unsure, hurts to see Manolo so at a loss for words, so he steps forward and lays a hand on Manolo’s shoulder, then his other hand on María’s.

“I won’t pretend I know what you’re going to say. I _can’t_ pretend I know what you’ll say,” Joaquín says. “But I need to tell both of you this. I love you.”

It’s the most open and vulnerable he’s allowed himself to be for a very long time, and he thinks his hands are shaking, just a little, as he continues, “I love you both. I love you both with all my heart. But if you don’t actually - if you _can't_ actually...” Joaquín stumbles and falters lets go of the both of them. “I can’t stay. I need to go.” He turns, so they can't see how much it hurts to look at them, intent on completing his lonely, tedious task.

A strong, calloused hand closes around his own and grips it tightly. _“No.”_ Manolo says.

María takes his other hand, and though her hand is smaller and more delicate it is equally strong. “Don’t leave us, Joaquín.” Her voice is barely a whisper, but it’s strong and clear and resolute.

“Please, Joaquín,” Manolo’s voice is gentle. “It's not the same without you. _We're_ not the same without you. You can’t just expect us to let you go. Not when we’ve only just realized your place in our hearts.”

“If you go, you’ll take our hearts with you,” María continues, and Joaquín can’t seem to stop shaking. “How do you expect us to live like that?”

Joaquín shuts his eye, as if doing so will shut out their words as well. María and Manolo tug at his hands, and he allows himself to be turned around. When he opens his eye, he can see the two of them, looking at him as if he is the only thing in the room, looking at him with such intensity it makes his good eye burn with unshed tears. “María... Manolo...” He mumbles, his voice hoarse and heavy and brittle with some unsaid emotion.

“Please, Joaquín. Please stay with us.”

“Please, Joaquín. We love you.”

Joaquín stays.

 

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> kids these days


End file.
